


it's three am ;

by gryffindored



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Smut, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Piano Sex, aelin deserves to be sexed down on a piano yall, because that's who i am as a person, i'm just the messenger, the world needs more piano sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindored/pseuds/gryffindored
Summary: “It’s three in the morning.”“Are your words broken?” she asked, prodding him hard in the chest with a nail. “You’ve said the same thing three times already.”“I’m just making sure we’re clear on the matter.”“That it’s three in the morning?” Aelin said in a mockery of his deep voice. “Yes, yes. I know. But it’s also your birthday.”Rowan blinked, leveling a stare at his wife as she straddled his waist. “In that case, for my birthday I’d like to go back to sleep.”





	it's three am ;

**Author's Note:**

> written for a ficswap organized over on tumblr in honor of KOA coming out soon!! my person requested fluff/smut/perhaps some birthday. so i hope i delivered, and i hope you all enjoy !!! :)

“It’s three in the morning,” Rowan muttered sleepily.

“Yes, I know,” Aelin countered cheerily.

“Three in the morning is for sleeping.”

“Yes,  _I know_.”

“Have you considered, then, doing exactly that?”

Aelin Galathynius huffed from where she perched at the end of their bed, the hem of her silk nightgown settled midway up her thighs. She crossed her arms petulantly over her chest, the effect lost on her husband who seemed quite determined to go back to sleep and even had the nerve to turn onto his stomach with his face half in the pillow.

Still, even while determined to rouse her mate, Aelin couldn’t help but marvel at the peace that had finally settled over them.

Such peace took what felt like an eternity to achieve. The passage of time had seemed stifling, halting. The physical scars had long faded and the scrolls of their story were tattooed between them. But it was the emotional toll that clung to them longest like smoke to fabric. It was the exhaustion that lingered in sleepless nights filled with fitful nightmares, throats raw with cries leftover from darker days.

The pause in her mission didn’t last long, however, before Aelin was unapologetically launching herself at the large body across the bed. He let out a disgruntled  _oomph_ upon contact, but she would not be deterred. Aelin’s nose nuzzled into his cheek, and jaw, and neck — lips planting a series of sloppy kisses.

“You’re worse than the dog,” Rowan grumbled.

“Happy birthday!” she exclaimed, ruffling her fingers through his short silver locks.

“It’s three in the morning,” he sighed. Finally, he shifted beneath her hold so he lay upon his back. His hands settled on her bare thighs as Aelin sat up. She cocked her head at him, and he scowled.

“You said that already. Anyway, you like early mornings.”

“It’s  _three in the morning_.”

“Are your words broken?” she asked, prodding him hard in the chest with a nail. “You’ve said the same thing three times already.”

“I’m just making sure we’re clear on the matter.”

“That it’s _three in the morning_?” Aelin said in a mockery of his deep voice. “Yes, yes. I know. But it’s also your  _birthday_.”

Rowan blinked, leveling a stare at his wife as she straddled his waist. “In that case, for my birthday I’d like to go back to sleep.”

It was her turn to scowl, her freckled nose scrunching together while her brows knit close. “When’d you get to be such a grump?” she asked with a huff as she drew her arms taut across her chest.

He couldn’t help but smirk, rising with minimal effort. She wrapped her legs around his waist as his hands snaked around and up her back. Her silk nightie shifted against his touch and she matched his grin briefly before returning to her previously attached frown.

“I’ve been a grump since day one,” he reminded her, his voice like gravel, laced with sleep.

“Ah, yes. It’ll be a good story to tell our daughter one day,” she said. And even though she rolled her eyes, Aelin couldn’t conceal the grin as she envisioned the future that was finally coming to fruition. Rowan’s own face went warm, his eyes dipping to her stomach that had yet to start showing. It was early still, but Aelin had an uncharacteristically good feeling about the whole thing.

“Daughter?” he breathed.

She shrugged, looping her arms around his neck. “Wishful thinking.”

Rowan watched her with a sobering expression, and she was about to ask him what was passing through his mind when his mouth dropped to the dip where her shoulder met her neck. His kissed the soft skin with gentle reverence, a lightness that sent shivers through her body. His hand drifted from her back across her shoulder blades until his palm found her cheek, his thumb rubbing soft lines back and forth against the line of her jaw. She sighed, his touch heavenly as ever, even after all this time.

“Rowan,” she mumbled after a moment, intent on getting back to her original purpose. She held onto his shoulders now in an attempt to ground herself again.

He lifted his head, his nose brushing against hers. His breathing was uneven, growing heavy. “You woke me up at three in the morning,” he said in a low voice. “And it’s my birthday. So the least you can do is let me kiss my wife.”

“— I’ll allow it,” she breathed, but his mouth was already meeting hers with the same soft yet intent touch as he placed at her neck.

She sighed into his kiss, never growing tired of the way they fit together. She could have  a thousand and one days with him and it would never be enough. His touch lit up her magic, stirring embers and light within her that always sent her reeling.

Her back was against the mattress before she knew it, his weight hovering over her with welcomed heat. Any thoughts Rowan had about sleep had clearly passed; she could sense his magic as roused and alert as her own, a sensation of wind prickling her nerves as much as his lips as they nipped along her jaw.  _This_  wasn’t why she’d woken him, but the more his settled his body against hers and ran his lips along her skin she simply couldn’t remember the initial reason.

His mouth settled at her ear, canines tugging at her lobe as his ragged breath sent chills throughout her body. Aelin arched against him, a soft moan escaping her lips as she met his hips and discovered his hardness. She writhed her body again as her hands drifted down his back and beneath the cotton of his boxers, pressing him into her. The groan she elicited from such was like music to her ears and —

“ _Wait_ ,” she breathed, the sound more of a rasping gasp. “— Rowan.” His eyes were drunk on her as they opened to take in her flushed face, her hands now on his shoulders and pushing lightly against him. “I have — come with me,” she said, voice low as she wriggled out from beneath him. Her nightgown was all askew and she tugged it down over her hips as she slid off their bed.

“In case you missed it,” he said drily, “that’s what I was trying to do.”

“Ha, ha,” Aelin shot back, tossing him an ineffective glare. She held her hand out to him, soft skin silvery and glowing in the moonlight that streamed through the sheer curtains. “I have a surprise for you.”

Rowan rose from their bed, his large hand encasing hers. He padded silently alongside her, his thumb brushing circles as their fingers twined. She tugged him along, down the creaking stairs.

“Have you even been to bed yet?” he asked, though she knew he was aware of her answer before she confirmed with a shrugged, “Nope.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, taking in his broad shoulders and sweeping tattoos, the hard line of his jaw and those eyes bright only for her. Turning away again, Aelin led him further through their too-large house, crossing the foyer and up the stairs that brought them to the Eastern Wing.

Aelin had three favorite rooms in the entire house — the kitchen, which always seemed stocked with her favorite chocolate cakes and sweets; the library, vast and cozy and lined with a mass of books; and lastly, the one she pulled him into with a sweep of her arms, the music room.

It was a glorious room with tall windows, no curtains in sight. It overlooked the rolling hills and expansive greenery of her homelands, a breathtaking sight and a reminder of all she’d fought for. The pianoforte was positioned such that the player could look past the glass, could see the nature for all it had to offer. It was a room mostly bare, exempt from her extravagant tastes save for the chandelier overhead which glinted in the moonlight streaming past the wide glass windows. She wanted the music to be the centerpiece of the room, and that was precisely what she got.

Aelin dropped her husband’s hand and moved to sit at the piano bench, plunking a key and letting the tinny high note fill the acoustics of the room. Rowan moved without command, standing by the windows, perfectly in line with the instrument and herself.

“The surprise is a piano that’s been here since we’ve moved in?” he teased.

Aelin stuck out her tongue in as Queenly a manner as she could, plunking another key — low, this time, and drawn out as she tapped the pedal with her toes. The sound resonated in her chest and she smiled, shutting her eyes, letting the music wash over her like a magic all its own.

“You buzzard,” she shot at him, cracking her eyes open now. “I wrote you something.” He said nothing, only tilted his head in a curious manner as he took her in with soft eyes. “Well, composed it. I guess.”

“I didn’t know you wrote music,” he said, his lips upturned in a smile as if amused by the fact that there were still things to be learned about one another. Their lives were never dull.

“I don’t,” Aelin said with a shrug, pressing out a soft-sounding chord. She smiled. “But I was thinking about you. About us. About — our baby.” She hesitated as she uncharacteristically spent time choosing her words, thinking them through. “I was thinking how there’s no song that captures everything just right. There’s no song out there that sounds like your hawk, flying free and unworried in the sky. There’s no melody that replicates how it feels to see you smile in your sleep, finally, after all this time. There’s nothing out there that feels like this child,  _our child_ , growing in me day after day. There isn’t one song in the entire canon of the world that captures how fierce you are, how strong and wise and —“ She paused, her voice thick. She swallowed hard, a small but real smile tilting her lips. “I love you. Who you are. Who  _I_ am since knowing you. I love that you’ve never once — hesitated, or doubted me, or feared me. We made a promise, long ago and many times since. To whatever end. And this — this song I made. It’s for that promise. For us. For  _you_.”

Her hands shook slightly as they hovered over the keys and she tore her burning eyes away from his face. Even in the moonlight, she could see the emotion roiling behind his expression. She could feel it in her own soul, tugging deep at the strings woven into her soul. But before he could speak, before she could start crying (gods damned hormones, she cursed silently), Aelin began playing.

The chords she struck were young and ancient, light and dark, heavy and upbeat. All at once, everything she felt was poured into the pianoforte. The music switched between soft and loud, filling the room no matter the cadence or volume. Like the tattoos in the Old Language that lined their bodies and told their stories, the sounds she crafted did the same. She played with a fervor she hadn’t experienced in ages, even as she got to the end of the tune that she had only just finished into the wee hours of the night. Aelin had struggled with writing the end, finding a conclusion to a story that was still ongoing. But when she had closed her eyes, only hours earlier, and thought about a future that was soon, so soon, to involve a child, she knew precisely how to end the song. Because in that silent moment, she saw not just a faceless child, but a clear image of a daughter — Rowan’s smile, her eyes, white-blond hair that curled over her ears. Her heart had all but exploded at the image, at the thought of their future, and her fingers poured over the keys, as they did now, in an uplifting and beautiful sound that could only be described in one word.

_Hope_.

Even when she finished, the sound lingered between them. It settled into every nook and cranny of the walls, reverberated off the glass windows, and sank into their souls into that bond that tethered them. Aelin looked up at him, and his face nearly broke her as she saw reflected in him precisely what she felt. Whatever earlier hesitation met his mind when she spoke of a daughter was replaced, in this moment, with the hope she’d discovered.

Rowan was silent as he closed the space between them, coming up behind her. She swung her legs around the piano bench to face him, her back to the keys. He knelt before her, not as a King to his Queen, but with a different sort of reverence beheld in his eyes. She touched a palm to his cheek and he leaned into the contact, his jaw jumping beneath her hand as he swallowed hard.

“ _Aelin_  —“ he whispered reverently.

“Did you like it?” she asked softly, turquoise eyes wide and lips parted.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, though no words came. Before she could fill the silence, though, Rowan crashed into her with a heady kiss. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her close, while the other wound into her golden locks. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue found hers with an intensity that had her nerves on fire. Every bit of love he felt was poured between them as he kissed her with a ferocity she could only respond to in kind.

It was as good a response to her gift as any, she supposed.

Aelin’s legs wrapped tight around his torso as he continued to kneel before her, the deep kiss between them seemingly unending. She gasped with pleasure as his mouth moved down her neck, his hands following suit along her sides. His touch was heated, as if he were the one with fire in his veins.

“That was incredible,” Rowan muttered, a series of kisses like light flutters against her collarbones.

“Did —” she started, but was quickly cut off by his persistence.  

“ _You’re incredible_ ,” he breathed against her skin, the rasp making her toes curl. She dug her heels into his back, bracing herself on her elbows and causing a clinking cacophony of sound as she hit a series of keys in the process. He laughed briefly against her skin at the sound, but the joy was soon replaced with a new intent that had her entire body heated.

“ _So.”_ His hands dragged her silk nightie up her body so he could settle a kiss against her stomach. “ _Gods damned.”_ Another punctuated kiss, this one against her inner thigh. “ _Remarkable.”_ And another, higher up against her other thigh, close to the spot that pulsed and begged for him.

The movement was swift and practiced as Rowan hooked his fingers into the band of her panties, pulling them down and off her ankles only to replace her legs over his shoulders. Her back and shoulders hit more keys as his mouth found purchase between her thighs, tongue working her with skill and care. The flurry of sound cut through the silence of the room, keys plunked and hit without purpose as she tried to keep herself grounded. Even still, her panting moans weren’t lost in the cacophony of chords as he licked her further, his fingers joining in the process. He played her with the same efficiency that she did the piano, knowing precisely where to linger and what buttons to press. The sounds that came from her, however, were not nearly so refined, as he sent her over the edge, her body pulsing around him.

Aelin’s legs shook as she went to unhook them from his shoulders, her chest rising and falling in heavy pants as she rode out the remainder of her climax. Rowan’s arms wound around her, holding her close as he lifted her from the bench. His mouth settled against her ear, his hardness hot against her stomach. 

“ _I’m not done with you_ ,” he said as if in warning, and she could only make a throaty noise in response.

She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Rowan was always more about action than words. He didn’t need to say it in long-winded, pretty speeches for her to know how appreciative he was, how in awe. The way his tongue ran along the seam of her mouth, how his hands gripped her close, the rasp of his breath as he leaned their bodies against the window — it said enough. More than enough.

He laughed when she shivered at the chill of the window against her back, and the sound of his joy was enough to make her want more. Always more. She never would be able to get enough of him, and she was thankful it wasn’t possible to die from loving someone this much or else she may already have succumbed.

The windows steamed up slowly as she warmed the air around them, nipping at his lip as if in silent question why he’d stopped kissing her.

“I love you,” he said, his voice so low she felt it in the vibrations of his chest more than she heard it. “You remarkable, incredible, overwhelming female,” he whispered, her toes curling as his canines lingered over her neck. She arched into him. “I don’t know what I’d have become without you.”

“A grumpy, scowling bird-brain,” she garnered a guess.

His eyes gleamed as he glanced at her, pressing his body into her and tightening her legs around his waist. It was with such ease he kept her pinned against the windows. He threatened a bite at her neck, though didn’t puncture. She angled her neck but he moved away. She made a noise in protest.

“So cruel after such a pretty declaration and a song, milady,” Rowan teased.

“I wouldn’t want your head to grow too big, husband.”

“I love you,” he repeated after a moment, kissing her softly. It was almost too soft, but he didn’t relent even as she tried to deepen it. Her hands clung to his shoulders, her hips rolling, wanting, begging. He stifled a groan. “ _My fireheart_ ,” he said unto her lips.

“ _Please_ ,” she breathed, arching.

“There are your manners,” he said with a wicked sort of delight. His mouth met her neck, teasing her there, distracting her. She didn’t even notice when he had shifted his boxers down his hips, a pleasured moan passing her lips as he angled himself into her, filling her.

She tightened her arms around his shoulders, fingernails clutching the planes of his back. Aelin didn’t hold back, the sounds pouring from her mouth as he thrust himself into her without tire. How it was he could have her spilling out declarations of love and admiration and composing songs of utmost intimacy one moment and reduced to mere moans and aroused cries the next, she’d never know. One of the many talents of a Fae lover, she supposed, though the thoughts were broken and brief as he began to speed up his pace.

Music lingered in her brain, joined now by the sounds of their bodies coming together and the ragged breaths and groans and incoherent noises as their pleasures built. Their joining was simply another type of song, she supposed. Just as deeply intimate as the one she poured from her soul into the pianoforte. Just as moving.

“ _Rowan_ ,” she cried, tightening her thighs around him as his hands dropped to her backside, keeping her close against him as his thrusts turned shallow and rapid and frantic in search of their release. She repeated his name in pleasure and reverence and personal prayer, the sound on her lips the only one she could remember. And when his canines brushed against the skin of her neck and claimed her, it threw her a thousand miles a minute over the edge, as he knew it would, her cries echoing around them in the spacious room joined by his as he came inside her, filling her.

The lingered like that for uncountable moments, his forehead dropped onto the dip of her shoulder. Their skins were sticky with sweat, their breaths hot and ragged between them. He planted a hot, lazy kiss at her collar before pulling out of her and carefully setting her to her feet. She leaned against the window for support, his hands still on her and bracing her. She tugged her nightgown back over her hips.

Hints of sunlight were beginning to poke through the sky, the room painted in that hazy sort of pre-dawn light. Silvers and purples twined with pink and a hint of gold, settling on their skin as they soaked up the light from the window. They’d had a hundred year’s worth of mornings together, and she hoped for a hundred thousand more.

Aelin watched the way his face softened in the early-morning light and she touched her fingers to his lips, tracing them. He nipped her finger, eliciting a laugh that spread throughout the room and joined the skeletons of sounds they’d already filled it with.

“I wanted to do something special for you,” she said, her voice maintaining a slight rasp. “Did it work?”

“Do you mean, was it worth being so forcibly awoken at three in the damn morning for?” he teased in a low voice, resting his forehead against hers and twining his hands around her back.

“ _This again_?” she said with an air of mock exasperation. “You’d better get used to it. Once we have this baby, sleep is going to be a thing of the past.”

Rowan paused, his lashes fluttering slightly as he looked down between them, at the bump that did not yet exist on her stomach, then back at her. “Do you really think it’ll be a girl?” he breathed.

“I hope so.” Aelin paused, settling a hand on his chest, over his heart that thumped a heavy beat against his ribs. “Is that a good thing?” she asked.

“A daughter?”

“Mm.”

He brushed a soft, gentle kiss to her forehead and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent, relishing how it twined with hers. He brought his fingers to her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I’m scared shitless,” he admitted, and Aelin couldn’t blame him. All he’d been through before she even knew him, all they’d been through since. Still, he caused a small ache in her heart. “I’m so gods damned scared. Like being this happy, like hoping for something like — like our daughter, might —“

“We deserve this,” she breathed in interruption, a desperate sound. Perhaps as much to make herself believe it as for him. His hand came to wrap around the one she had palmed against his chest. She leaned forward and kissed his knuckles before looking back up at him. “ _We deserve this_ ,” Aelin said, stronger. A declaration.

“You and I,” she said slowly, “we — we’ve been through so much. Together. We brought each other back from — from places that could’ve easily devoured us.” She pulled her hands and drifted her palms up his chest to his shoulders, rising on tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss to his lips. “But we got through it. We pulled one another out. Together. Together,  _to whatever end_. We can do anything,” Aelin said with an unwavering confidence.

He looked at her with heavy, steadfast emotion held in those deep pine eyes. Eyes that pulled her out of so much darkness, both figurative and literal. He touched her with hands that had saved her. He embraced her and she felt the heart beat against her chest, the exact heart that had tethered her soul to this world, that found her again and again, that gave her a reason to want not only to survive, but to live.

“To whatever end,” she repeated, burrowing her head against his chest.

Rowan tightened his arms around her and Aelin could have sworn she felt a shuddering sob of relief pass through his body as he agreed, “To whatever end.”


End file.
